


Artistic License

by TrinityEverett



Series: Maritari [3]
Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinityEverett/pseuds/TrinityEverett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Painting day in the Beckett-Rodgers household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artistic License

_This takes place in the same universe as chapter 1._

**Maritari**

**Category:**  AU (same universe as chapter 1), Fluff

**Rating:**  T

**Summary** : Painting day in the Beckett-Rodgers household.

_**Chapter 3 - Artistic License** _

* * *

_Marry me. We'll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than on the walls._

As he stands at the breakfast bar paging through the mail, he only has one thought: There are a  _lot_  of zeroes on this check from Black Pawn.

It's an advance of sorts, to be used throughout the editing process for the two manuscripts he's given them already and for the completion of the one he's working on right now, but he's not sure he'll use it that way. He doesn't need money to edit. Even though he could use part of the check to get his own laptop, instead of using the one he's been borrowing from a guy at work since promising to take a few of his shifts over the holidays (and to name a character after him), he won't do that just yet.

Right now they can use the money for other things. After over a year of being at his side when things were tight, Kate deserves to be spoiled a little bit, and he knows exactly how he's going to do that.

The first thing on his list is to buy her a bed, a real one that's comfortable and attractive, and not terrible on their backs. His wife – his pregnant wife – isn't going to sleep on a mattress on the floor anymore.

After the bed, he wants to get everything set up for the baby's room. They have time, but with this money they can make it perfect, make it everything they want it to be long before their daughter – or son, Kate reminds him each time he insists it's a girl – arrives. It'll take a load off their minds, he knows, not to have to worry about all the baby  _stuff_  and just worry about the baby in a few months.

After that, he's not sure just yet. But he'll figure it out as they go.

"Hey babe, you mind giving me some help with these things?"

Spinning, he finds his wife attempting to lumber through the door, her arms full of plastic grocery bags. Behind her, he sees three bulging white garbage bags as well.

"He- hey! Hey, sorry, sorry."

She laughs against his lips when he sneaks a kiss between grabbing the bags. "Proper kiss in a sec. Those go in the kitchen. There's more out here."

"What is all this stuff?" He peeks inside one of the bags before depositing it on the counter and returning to collect the rest from around her feet.

"Groceries."

His wife smiles gratefully, ducking out into the hall to shove the garbage bags inside. His eyebrow only shoots up further when she disappears entirely for a moment, only to return with two more heavy-looking canvas bags. She should've let him get those, stubborn woman.

"Yeah," she grunts, settling the bags just inside the door. "The cabbie loved me."

He laughs at that, reaching around her to check the hallway for anything else she might've forgotten. Satisfied that it's empty, he backs inside, turning to survey the pile they've just brought into their home.

It's a short-lived look, though, because Kate's arms wind around his neck, drawing him down into the previously promised proper kiss. Her lips taste like chocolate and happiness and he can't help the slide of his tongue against her flesh. He needs more of her. They've both had good days; they should take a moment to bask in that.

She pulls away briefly, sucking in a lungful of air. It gives him the chance to divest her of her sweatshirt and the thin t-shirt underneath it before he presses his smile against hers again.

"Good day?" he pants against her lips finally, needing air of his own again. Her hands are making quick work of his bookstore-mandated polo shirt, slipping the final two buttons free before tugging it over his head.

"Mhmm," she hums, nipping at his mouth. Her hands curl against his shoulders, pulling him closer as her hips rock against his leg. "Even better now."

Laughing, his hands slide over her back. One dips under the waistband of her jeans, the other roaming upward and under the band of her bra. She presses closer, her mouth breaking from his to make a slow, torturous trek across his jaw and down his neck. Her tongue coaxes a groan from his lips.

She's going to kill him. Especially when she giggles that way.

He dies a little more when she rolls her hips against his already uncomfortable khakis.

"Bed?" he grunts, unfastening her bra and tossing it somewhere in his haste to get to her skin. His thumb smooths over an indentation the underwire has left behind before he palms her breast gently. She groans against his neck, arching into his hand. Pregnancy has made her breasts so sensitive; he can't help but tease a thumb around her nipple to hear her moan again.

"Couch, s'closer." Her hand skims down his chest, cupping him through his pants.

Couch it is.

He wakes a little later from an exhausted, sated sleep to his wife's bright smile and eager eyes. They're wrapped in a blanket that's far too small for two, but neither of them seem to mind their limbs peeking out in order to accommodate them both.

"Hey," she whispers, stretching up to kiss his chin. "How was your nap?"

Sex always makes her animated. Even as pregnancy takes a toll on her energy levels, sex makes her glow, it makes her feel strong, it makes her want to conquer everything in life.

"Mmm, good. How long was I out?" He rubs the heel of his hand against his eye, blinking to clear whatever sleep remains.

"Bout an hour. I dozed too." She grins, trailing her fingertip over his nipple. "Our ice cream's probably melting, but I'd say it was worth it."

Matching her grin, he hauls her closer. "Definitely worth it. How're you feeling?" Out of the blue, her morning sickness had kicked into overdrive. But only at night, so anything she eats has to be consumed early otherwise she risks waking up sick in the middle of the night. They've been warned that nausea is relatively normal, so he tries not to panic too much, but he hates that she can't sleep on top of it all.

Kate tucks herself against his neck, breath washing over his skin in a contented exhale. "Better now. Mom gave me some good ideas for helping the nausea before it starts."

He nods, rubbing her back gently. Whatever it took to keep her from feeling bad.

"She also bought the groceries today, so I invited her and dad over for dinner on Saturday since we're both off. I figured you'd be okay with it. We can invite your mom, too, if you want."

"Of course I'm okay with it. Mother's working I think, but I'll extend the invitation anyway so she doesn't feel snubbed. The last thing we want is a grandmother diva scorned."

His wife giggles against his throat, pressing a soft kiss wherever her lips land. "No, that is the last thing we want. We should see her play, too. Maybe she can get us matinee tickets sometime if we can both get an afternoon off work? I'd say we could just get the cheap seats, but there aren't any, and I don't want to insult her by trying to get them day-of and end up behind a pole or something."

He loves the way Kate loves his mother. For all the times his mother has looked at them and asked if they were sure, even calling them crazy for jumping into a marriage less than a year after meeting, Kate loves his mom and his mom adores her.

"I'll ask her that, too." He kisses her forehead. "For you, Kate, she'll leave tickets every weekend if you want them."

Cool fingers slide up and down his arm. "For you, too, Rick."

The relationship he has with his mom isn't the easiest thing in the world, but most of the time he believes that.

"Eh, she knows I've spent years backstage when I was growing up; the magic of the theater isn't there for me anymore," he tries, clearing his throat quickly. Kate's mouth slides over his neck, soothing hums vibrating his skin.

"Liar," she rumbles, palming his cheek. "You see magic everywhere. You bring magic everywhere. You give me magic daily."

His lips curve and his eyebrows wiggle at the possibly unintended innuendo. "Speaking of giving you magic, wanna hear what came in the mail today?"

"Uh huh." She steals one more kiss before sitting up as far as their blanket will allow. "Was it what you were looking at when I came in?"

"Yeah," he confirms, breaking his train of thought to tug her hair out of its ruined ponytail. He settles his fingers against the crown of her head for a quick massage. Her eyes flutter shut, chin dipping toward her chest as he eases any aches having her hair up has caused. His fingers move across her head, curling behind her ears to circle the spots he knows she holds tension.

"Did you see your dad today?" he blurts it out without really thinking, but his wife leans into his hands even more, forgiving his blunder.

"Mmm, yeah I did. He tried to come with me and mom and got frustrated when she said no."

Ah. "Did he…"

"Have a drink?"

"Yeah," he bites his lip, circling his thumb carefully. Jim's coping mechanism worries them all, more than they often admit to each other. It'd started after Johanna was hurt, but any time Jim was concerned for someone's safety now, it seemed like he reached for a tumbler of Bourbon as a crutch.

"No. At least not as far as I saw when we went home. Mom let him fuss over her and get her situated to rest. Then once she was asleep, I asked him to go with me on another errand," she explains, head lolling into his hands. "I was surprised he even left the house with her napping, but he was fine and clearheaded."

His lips slide over her forehead. "He'll be okay. Between the three of us, we'll figure it out."

Kate smiles softly, catching his mouth in an easy kiss. "I suggested maybe he talk to someone about the anxiety and mom said, 'Katie, if you can get your stubborn father to talk to a therapist, I'll quit my job for good and be your full-time babysitter,' so I guess you can see how realistic that idea is."

"On the contrary, I think that is a challenge we need to accept." He squeezes her neck gently, gathering her hair again and deftly securing it in a messy bun.

Her laugh is soft, but unconvincing. "Sure, we'll accept that challenge. Now what's your magical surprise?"

He flips her gently, settling her head against the throw pillow as he stands. Without the warmth of her body and the blanket, the loft is even chillier than he thought. He'll bump the heat up a little soon.

"Stay there, I'll get it."

Joy infuses her features again as he darts around the couch in his birthday suit to get to the counter. He has to move their grocery bags – they should probably put those things away at some point – to find his prize, but soon enough he's able to unearth the check. He sees her head emerge over the top of the couch and grins.

"You're peeking."

"At that ass of yours," she retorts, her mouth buried in the cushion. Her eyebrows wiggle to make her point.

"Uh huh."

Eager to get warm again, he takes a gamble that he won't crush her long, slim legs and hops directly over the back of the couch. Kate giggles, dragging him into her blanket warmth. Said long legs drape across his lap and her head lands on his shoulder.

"So this arrived." He brandishes the check without much pageantry, instead holding it up to his face to he can see her expression when she reads it.

Her jaw drops, much the same way his did earlier. "That's… holy shit, Rick."

"That's just the  _advance_ , Kate. It's almost like back pay. They're that sure it's going to be a hit, that all of them are gonna be a hit."

The kiss she slams against his mouth is heady. "I love you so much," she whispers fiercely, only to add, "and I am  _so_  proud of you."

His chest floods with warmth. "Thanks," he breathes, trailing his finger over her ear. "So what I'm thinking we should do is cash it, put half in our savings account or invest it or something. Something to build interest. Then with the other half, I say we splurge a little. Things for us, things for the baby. With what's left, we pay down the bills."

Her eyes shine at the idea. "What kind of things for the baby?"

"Let's do her room this weekend."

"You mean  _his_  room?" she teases, thumbing his cheek.

He sticks his tongue out. "The nursery. Let's do the nursery this weekend."

She squeaks, kissing him firmly. "Kay, let's do it. Let's do it. Because actually," she drawls, nibbling the inside of her lip quickly. "I have a surprise, too."

With that, she hops off the couch, shivering as soon as her feet touch the floor. Rugs, they need rugs, too. That's definitely on their splurge list. She grabs his discarded sock from the floor, tugging the other one off his foot (huh, he hadn't even noticed that one staying on) and shoving her toes inside. His shirt goes over her head on her way to her own pile of treasures from the afternoon.

Finding his boxers, he follows her across the room, making only a brief detour to turn up the heat a little bit. Hardwood had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but when it gets chilly, it gets chilly.

"I dragged dad to the hardware store. He knows the guy who owns it and he kind of gives him a discount on stuff, especially when it's for me," she explains, tugging a gallon-sized can free from the canvas bag. "So we bought paint and painting supplies and everything to – oh!"

The paint can lands heavily against his back when he scoops her off her feet and spins her around, but he'll survive. "What color did you get?" He grins, rubbing his nose against her cheek.

"Green. Light green. And off-white for the accents."

Exactly what he would've chosen considering they won't find out if it's a boy or a girl for a little longer. He'll have to look at the mostly-untouched stack of baby books they got after meeting Kate's doctor for the first time.

"Mom reminded me that we can use some or all of my nursery furniture if we want to. It's in good condition, she said. It's off-white or something close to that, I think, so it'll match pretty well."

He nods eagerly.

"I was going to ask if we still could. She mentioned it to me the night we told them."

His wife's eyes brighten again as she nods in agreement. "We can tell them on Saturday and arrange to get it out of storage once all the painting's done. I think that'll be easier. And oh, I figured we could add other colors once we know what we're having. Yellows or purples. Whatever we want. Whatever the baby likes."

"Making your child decorate their own nursery," he tsks teasingly, bumping his mouth against hers until their breath comes a bit raggedly.

"Letting my child love their home as much as I do," she retorts, crinkling her nose playfully as she pulls away to settle the paint can on the floor again.

Straightening up, her arms wind around his waist and his wife tucks herself under his chin. Without her favorite chunky heeled boots giving her the extra height to put them almost eye to eye, she fits in the curve of his body like the space was carved out for her.

A part of him thinks it probably was.

Kate hums into his neck, sweeping her palms up his back. "Okay, husband, I'll put the groceries away if you haul the paint stuff upstairs? Then we can start on dinner?"

"Then I'll start on dinner while you relax."

"Then we can start on dinner," she argues with a grin. "Team effort here."

She's right. Like everything else, dinner is a team effort.

"I'll be back in a few," he acquiesces, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

* * *

Saturday takes forever to arrive, but when it does, it's blissful. They've both managed to take the entire day off and their morning officially begins around noon when his wife finally drags the covers off their heads and squints against the daylight streaming through the blinds. She shivers against his lips as they trace the line of her spine.

"Mmm, you have to feed me before we go another round, babe."

His lips curl against her skin. "Just expressing my appreciation for our previous rounds."

Her light laugh spreads warmth through his limbs.

"Baby wants your famous waffles," she murmurs, twisting to press her face into his chest. "Please? We have everything, I made sure the other day."

Cupping the back of her head, his lips slide across her brow. "Ricky's famous waffles coming up. After we eat, I'll set up the paint stuff and get the fans going so the fumes won't get to you. The doctor said it's okay, right?"

"Uh huh. That's why you raided mom and dad's storage unit for their extra box fans."

"Right." They'd called her doctor to ask. Since the paint isn't oil or lead-based, as long as the room is ventilated and they keep an eye on her, the doc said it was just fine for her to work with him today.

Her fingers delve into his hair, scratching his scalp gently. They lean together for a while longer, breathing each other in, before she sneaks a kiss and pulls away. "Okay, feed me now. If we're going to get any work done before dinner we need to start soon."

Yeah, she has a point. Her parents are coming over relatively early. Neither Beckett enjoys staying out too late anymore, not that he blames them, but it means he and Kate have less time to paint, clean up, and start dinner before they arrive.

"Done."

Kate grins, tossing the covers to their ankles and dragging him out of bed with her. The cold air draws a sharp whine from him and he crowds against his wife's back, following her to the bathroom.

"Nooo, Rick. I have to pee. Get dressed outside."

"But it's  _cold_."

"And covering your butt will help that." Kate swats at said butt quickly, shoving him out of their bathroom. "Waffles, Richard. Pregnant wife wants waffles," she calls through the door.

"Thought you said the baby wanted the waffles? And really, after all the horribly dirty things we do to each other, are you  _really_  that shy about me following you to the bathroom?"

His wife just laughs as she takes care of things.

He's already at the kitchen counter when she emerges from their bedroom, tying her hair back into a messy bun. She changed into her painting clothes; a child sized Superman t-shirt that's seen better days (stolen from his drawer at his mother's place, if the hole in the armpit is any indication) and a pair of stretchy crop pants. From the soft slap of skin on the floor as she pads to him, her feet are still bare.

"I loved that shirt. I think I actually cried when I outgrew it."

"Oh you did, your mom told me when I took it." She grins against his cheek, gently rubbing her nose across his stubble. "She said it was sweet."

Snorting, he drops the cup of carefully measured chocolate chips (plus a few more for posterity) into his waffle batter. Kate curls her arms around his waist, leaning heavily against his side. She slept better last night, but he has a feeling they may be taking a painting break midway through the day to let her nap.

"I love you, you know."

Dropping the wooden spoon into the bowl, he winds his arms around her. "Kate," he breathes, pressing his face into her neck.

"I love you," he murmurs, splaying his fingers over her back, teasing underneath the hem of her appropriated shirt to reach her skin. She shivers beneath his hand, pressing her belly against his. There's a new roundness to it that the small shirt and the contact can't hide and he grins, swiping his mouth over her neck up to her jaw.

"More every day," he promises against her cheek, thumbing her sides.

Kate turns her head, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. "Me too, babe. I was mostly talking about the extra chocolate in my waffles," she pauses to grin, scratching his back lightly, "but you are  _so_ sexy when you're romancing me."

He fakes devastation, clutching his chest dramatically as she giggles. The sound carries across the loft, bouncing along the walls and somehow managing to brighten the place more than the tall windows already have. She has that effect.

Painting prep doesn't take as long as he feared it might. Instead of him doing it all alone, Kate deals with the drop cloths while he sets up the fans and opens the windows and together they crack open the paint.

"You ready?" His wife beams as he pours the paint into the tray, brandishing a roller for him and taking one for herself. His and hers.

"Ready," he confirms. "Let's paint this kid's room."

Kate steals a kiss, diving for the tray. She's decided she'll be the first one to get paint on the wall, but he can't resist the challenge, too. Their rollers bump, dueling for the chance to slide into the reservoir first.

"Wait, should we have used a primer?" he blurts, mostly to distract her. Kate snickers, onto him already.

"Good try, hotshot," she taunts, yelping triumphantly when she reaches the paint first. "The paint has primer in it."

And with that, she stands, touching the roller to the wall and making the first long swipe. They're officially painting a nursery.

They work in silence at first, letting the hum of the fans and the gentle rasp of their paint rollers fill the room instead of conversation. As with everything else she does, Kate concentrates fully on the task, on spreading the paint evenly as far over her head as she can reach before stepping to one side and beginning the process again. He'll go back and tackle the top part of the wall on the stool, though he really doesn't mind watching the way she stretches to try to cover more ground. His eyes just can't decide whether to watch the slide of her shirt as it moves higher along her torso or the play of the muscles in her long legs when she lifts onto her toes.

"More painting, less staring, Mr. Rodgers," she teases, making a show out of stretching again anyway.

"Be less sexy and that might happen, Mrs. Rodgers," he retorts, skimming a paint-covered thumb over her hipbone on his way back to their paint tray.

She presses a hard kiss against his mouth. "I'm just painting," she murmurs, tucking a finger through his belt loop to bring his hips closer. "You're the one with the filthy mind today. Next thing I know, you'll be singing Color Me Badd to me."

His lips quirk. "Impressive reference, honey. Will it work?"

Kate's eyes drop, her lower lip retreating between her teeth. "Well," she exhales, looking thoughtful. "No."

It's all the notice she gives him before she slides a paint-covered fingertip across his forehead and yanks away.

"Hey!"

His wife throws her head back, her cackle echoing in the empty room. "That's for the handprint you just left on my ass. Now you're Siiiimba."

"Yeah, but that's your clothing, this is my  _face_!"

"And it'll wash off your face," she teases, moving to tackle the next wall. "These pants are ruined."

Well, that's a little hasty. He kind of likes the green marking covering one cheek of her butt. It's artistic. Too bad they haven't opened the second color yet, otherwise he would add another print to the other cheek.

"I wouldn't say that, they look great from where I'm standing."

Kate looks over her shoulder at him, snickering a little bit before rolling her eyes. "I'm sure they do, Simba."

"Hush, we're going to be watching that movie for years with our kid. Don't ruin it with your come hither eyes."

She snorts, pushing the roller along the wall. "My come hither eyes aren't working triple overtime, buddy. Unlike yours."

"Sure they're not," he hums, reaching for the smaller brush to start on the edging. She spares him another glance over her shoulder when he climbs the stool, making sure he doesn't need her to spot him, before going back to her wall.

"Hey, Rick?"

They've been painting quietly for the last hour, though he keeps sneaking looks to make sure the fumes aren't getting to be too much for her. She's stepped out a couple times already, returning his questioning looks with a smile and nodded assurances.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come help me with something?"

That voice of hers beckons him down from the stool. Whenever she asks for something like that, he can't help but move faster.

"Hmm?" He steps behind her, dropping a kiss onto her neck, feeling the shiver run through her limbs. "What can I do for you?"

"You can," she hums, shifting her arms a little bit to allow him to palm her belly. "Stop looking so serious over there."

She spins around a moment later, sliding her roller down his chest gleefully.

Sputtering her name, he does the first thing that comes to mind: he paints her as well. Well, her clothing at least. He doesn't want too much paint to touch her skin. His paintbrush worms over her sleeve and down the worn cotton of his beloved childhood shirt.

His wife's giggles turn into a squeal. She pulls away, trotting carefully across the drop cloth to get away from him.

"That's  _cold_! I can feel it through my  _bra_."

Oh, he knows. That much is obvious.

He follows her around the room, of course, laughing when she retaliates by spinning and pressing her front to his back

"Not so cold now," he murmurs, jumping at the graze of her teeth through his shirt.

"Uh huh. This might be, though." She lifts his shirt, smacking her slim hand against his back, no doubt leaving her own handprint on his body.

"Oh you are so lucky I'm not allowed to paint you, too."

"Yeah?" she husks against his ear in challenge. "We could make our own body paint out of food coloring tonight after mom and dad leave and see if you'll put your money where your mouth is."

Reaching back, he manages to snag her waist before she can pull away. She's cackling too much to try very hard anyway.

Still, she squeals when he flips her, tossing her over his shoulder gracelessly.

"Rick! Put me down!"

"Maybe. In a minute." Carrying her to their paint tray, he dips the brush in the reservoir. A soft kiss on her side distracts her just long enough for him to make the first swipe with the brush over her ass.

"Rick!"

The brush is too wide to do much more than doodle, but he's pretty proud of what he can see of his work.

"I hate you," she huffs, squirming in his arms. Her fingers grip his pants tightly, though he's not sure where she's going with that touch, he's willing to see it through.

"No you don't. You adore me. Your butt says so now."

It does. The squiggled heart does encompass his initials.

"My butt's a liar," she retorts, only to dissolve into giggles again. "Oh god, that sounds dumb."

He laughs with her, lowering her to her feet only to cup her flushed cheeks in his and kiss her thoroughly.

The moan that rumbles through her catches him by surprise, and when she walks him into the hall, he's equally surprised.

"Needed a breather," she explains, tugging his lip into her mouth.

Neither of them can lean against the wall, painted as they are, but he pulls her into him instead.

"Can't argue with this type of break."

Her nails bite against his scalp. "Didn't think you would."

"Just a quick one, though," he hums. "Then we need to go back to painting."

"The walls or each other?" She grins, pulling his shirt over his head.

He shrugs, pushing her pants down her hips. Her shirt and his shorts follow suit, making it much easier to press each other into the carpet. "Either. We'll see how inspired we're feeling."

They do get the walls done, but it's in between laughter and fending off messy, questing fingers. When Kate's parents let themselves in with their emergency key (earlier than expected), she's putting the finishing touches on the finger painted masterpiece on his chest - her name – and he has to throw his shirt on hastily to meet them downstairs.

"Hey, Mom, Dad," Kate greets as they're halfway down the stairs. "Sorry, we have the fans going up there. Didn't hear you at first."

Johanna takes one look at them both and bursts into laughter. Beside her, Jim smiles too. He looks better than he has in a while; maybe getting out of the house like this is the best thing for him.

"Is there even any paint on the walls? Look at you two!" His mother-in-law chides them gently, holding out her arms for hugs they readily give as soon as they reach the bottom step.

Kate laughs, glancing sheepishly over her shoulder at him. Their clothes are covered in splatter and paint brush swipes, not to mention dried handprints.

His arm winds around her waist, palm settling over one of said handprints.

"We got a little carried away, Johanna, I think but we managed pretty well."

His wife smiles, dropping a kiss on his jaw. "We did, Mom. We'll get cleaned up and then take you guys up there. The color is gorgeous already."

Johanna smiles. "I'd love that, Katie."

He'll carry her up there, just to make things easier on everyone.

Now he just has to get Kate into their room to change clothes before her father sees the fingerprints all over her backside.


End file.
